For Warrick
by lildreamer7
Summary: FINISHED! Tag for season finale. Will he live or die? And what happens after? This is a bonus chapter: contains GSR angst and a hint of Grillows.
1. Divine Intervention?

**Title:** For Warrick

**Author:** lildreamer

**Rating: **K+

**Spoilers:** "For Gedda"

**Pairings:** none (but I am a Grillows—and sometimes Snickers—shipper, so don't be surprised if one or both sneaks in here. Nothing major, though)

**Summary:** Tag for season finale. Will he live or die? And what happens after?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI or any of its characters. So don't sue me!

**A/N:** This is what I think should happen, not what I think could happen. That's a whole other idea!

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Perhaps it was divine intervention.

Fate.

Or maybe just pure coincidence.

Whatever the case, they had all still been in the vicinity when the first shot echoed through the night. In the few seconds it took to unlock and climb into his car, Greg had somehow misplaced his keys. He ended up hunting through his entire car for them. It was as if they'd mysteriously vanished. Grissom had exited the restaurant right behind him and had been very close to driving away when something stopped him. Catherine had just come out of the building and was digging through her purse for her keys when the strap broke. The purse fell from her shoulder and spilled its contents all over the blacktop. Grissom immediately jumped out of his car to help the flustered woman collect her things before they rolled or flew away.

Nick had stayed behind at the restaurant after everyone else had gone. All through dinner, his eyes had been drawn toward one of the waitresses. A pretty redhead. But when he'd gone looking for her, he couldn't seem to find her.

His head shot up when he heard it, as well as the heads of all the other patrons, who were mostly made up of other law enforcement officers. He was the first to run out of the restaurant, his gun drawn. He found three of his teammates outside, glancing wildly around the lot, their own guns drawn. They all stared at each other for a moment, sharing a fearful look, before running toward where they thought the shot had originated. Feet pounded around them as several officers joined in their search. They all came to a halt when they saw a dark figure hovering around Warrick's car. In the darkness, they couldn't get a clear view of the shooter's face. Only his body and the gun in his hand.

For several long seconds the CSIs stood rooted to the ground. The moment had taken them off guard. They should have known that Warrick's life was still in danger with Gedda's killer still out there.

"Warrick!"

They had their eyes glued to the man's gun as he lifted it for another shot. In one heart-stopping moment, the muzzle stabbed fire, and the driver's head snapped back as if it were on a spring. Blood sprayed the side window, which shattered from the impact of the deflected bullet.

Like a puppet on a string, Warrick went limp and collapsed. His head hit the broken window as he slumped into his seat. They'd all seen more than a few dead bodies and knew they were looking at another.

"NO!" Nick moved with only a moment's thought and dashed toward the killer as he wiped the gun and threw it onto the passenger's seat.

The man glanced up at them, but his face was still in shadows, giving him the appearance of having no eyes. He passed from the ring of light cast by several officers' flashlights, rounded the back of the car, and slipped into the shadows. As if the CSIs, the cops were nothing more than an irritant, an interference.

And then he was gone.

Nick tore toward the car. Without thinking, he grabbed the driver's door and yanked it wide open. Warrick's body slumped into a pool of blood on the asphalt.

"Warrick!" Catherine sprinted forward, gun gripped in both hands. "Warrick?"

Greg stared silently with his cell phone pressed to his ear. He was on an emergency hotline; his words caught in his throat.

"Call an ambulance!" Nick dropped to his knees and tugged Warrick's limp body.

The body rolled. He quickly pressed his hands against the wounds in his friend's neck, trying to stop the bleeding. He felt a faint pulse beneath his fingers.

Grissom stared. "Oh my god…"

Brass appeared behind the group and froze to the spot when he saw the body. "What happened?"

"He was shot!" Nick screamed. "He was shot, that's what happened. Don't just stand there, the suspect's getting away!"

He checked the wound on the side of Warrick's head. The second bullet had left a superficial gash, causing instantaneous unconsciousness, but it hadn't penetrated the skull. The shot had most likely caused a concussion, but nothing more.

Brass was already moving, yelling orders at men behind them. "Suspect is in the perimeter. Form teams. And spread out. Now! Report every fifteen minutes. Get me some light. Move!"

For a brief moment, Nick stared at the body by his knees. Red blood matted the short curls of hair on the right side of Warrick's head where one of the bullets had struck him. Other than that, he looked like a man at peace.

They had become instant friends the moment Nick had set foot at the Las Vegas Crime Lab all those years ago. And their relationship only grew from there. They became an inseparable pair. Brothers. They always had each other's back. No matter what. A fact that had been proven quite recently. Nick's loyalty to his best friend had been put to the test when Warrick had been accused of a crime he did not commit. Though he and the rest of the team had not been allowed to work his case, they had found other ways to help him and proved that he'd been framed. The poor guy had been through so much already during the past few days. And now he was lying there dying in his best friend's arms.

Everything slowed in Nick's mind, minute details popping to life, when he suddenly realized that Warrick had stopped breathing. "No! Rick, don't do this, man. Don't you die on me. Wake up!"

The resolve filled his veins. He called a clearly shaken Greg over and had him take his place applying pressure to Warrick's wounds. Then working quickly, with practiced deliberation, he tilted Warrick's head back, pinched his nostrils between his thumb and forefinger, lowered his mouth to his, and flooded his lungs with his breath. Again.

Then he leaned over him, pressed both palms over his friend's sternum and pumped at a rate that approximated one hundred beats per minute.

One, two, three, four…thirty times before Nick would give more of his breath.

_C'mon, man!_ Nick set his jaw. _Live!_

No response.

His own heart beat in his eardrums. Warrick's remained stone. They needed a defibrillator, and they needed it now.

Brass reappeared, speaking into his radio. "You're saying he just disappeared? Find him!" He pulled up when he saw Nick working feverishly over Warrick's dead body. "Anything?"

Nick blew into Warrick's mouth again. Then pumped his chest. "We have to get him to a hospital." He continued the CPR, begging with each breath, each pump of his palms against his sternum, that Warrick would regain consciousness.

Becoming desperate, he slammed his fist on his chest.

"Wake up!"

The siren's wail reached him and he looked up as the screech of tires announced the ambulance's arrival. A paramedic dressed in a white shirt jumped out of the back and shoved Nick aside. Eyes on Warrick's lifeless form.

He spoke calmly. "How long has the victim been in arrest?"

Grissom glanced at his watch. "Too long…"

* * *

**Whaddaya think? More?**


	2. Life and Death

**Hey, everyone! Here's another chapter! Thanx 2 all these ppl 4 reviewing!**

gens

linsy

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**Enjoy!**

* * *

The paramedic glanced back at his partner, who was wheeling a clattering stretcher on the run. With the second paramedic's help, they heaved his dead weight onto the gurney. Then ran it back toward the ambulance. The CSIs followed and watched helplessly from the sidelines.

Blue and white strobes from the emergency lights flashed on their faces. The rear of the ambulance was spread wide, and a large black case rested on the floor, already open. An automated electronic defibrillator, or portable juicer, as some liked to call it.

"His wounds look pretty bad, Jimmy," the second paramedic said, wrapping bandages around Warrick's bleeding neck. "Lost a lot of blood. The bullet didn't penetrate his skull, though. With any luck we have pulseless V-fib caused by shock."

They slid to a stop and together the paramedics released the scissoring gurney legs and lifted it into the ambulance. The first paramedic, Jimmy, dropped to his knees, grabbed Warrick's T-shirt, and ripped it open with a grunt. "Hook him up, Chase. Get an IV into him, now."

The second paramedic did as he was told and was now working the bag valve mask on Warrick's face. Jimmy was fixing three self-adhesive electrodes to his torso to measure cardiac activity. He flipped a switch. The small screen on the AED came to life. The two paramedics had done this enough to develop seamless efficiency, but the CSIs couldn't find any comfort in the fact. Warrick was way beyond the benefits of efficiency. With drugs, electricity, and raw luck, maybe—just maybe—they could beat his body back to life.

Dark gray lines ran across the lighter gray background of the heart monitor. It wasn't V-fib like the paramedics had initially thought. The CSIs realized that too, and their hearts sank. Asystole, a flatline.

Except for in movies, defibrillation was rarely used on patients with a flatline. Recovery was virtually impossible. But surprisingly enough, the older paramedic seemed to have dismissed that fact and pressed on. He was determined to save his patient.

He took the paddles, gelled them, and shoved them into the anterior-apex positions—the anterior electrode on the right, below the clavicle, and the apex electrode on the left, just below and to the left of the pectoral muscle.

"Clear!" he shouted.

"Clear." Chase moved the oxygen mask away.

He thumbed a switch, and 200 joules of electrical current coursed through Warrick's chest. His muscles quivered as expected. No arching of the back or violent jump. But plenty of juice for the heart to respond to if it could.

The monitor showed one small blip of increased activity, then returned to the scribbled line.

"Again, clear."

"Clear."

Jimmy waited another three seconds as the AED recharged, then hit the switch again.

Warrick's muscles reacted again. This time no reaction from the heart monitor.

"Give him some epinephrine!"

Chase already had the syringe hooked up to the IV line. He shoved the plunger to its hilt, flooding Warrick's vein with the clear drug. "Hit him again."

The cardiac monitor blipped once, twice, then returned to a straight gray line.

"Check the contacts," Jimmy breathed. "Check them!"

The young paramedic did. The lines remained flat.

"Clear!"

"Clear."

Another surge of electricity. Another small jerk as the muscles responded.

This time there was no reaction from the monitor. Only a high-pitched tone that signaled no activity. Continued asystole.

Chase was still diligently working the respirator, pumping oxygen into Warrick's lungs. Jimmy was still leaning over the dead body, knuckles white on the paddle handles, readying the AED for another surge of current.

As Nick watched the unpleasant scene unfolding in front of him and his friends, something changed in his mind then. The forces of inevitability pulled the plug, draining the last bits of hope from him.

He whispered, begging, "Come on, Warrick. _Please_. Don't do this to me."

"Clear."

The body jerked a little. Then lay still.

The line on the monitor ran thread-thin.

Silence settled around the ambulance. Jimmy looked to one side and saw the CSIs watching him, crest-fallen. He looked to his colleague and saw him shake his head slightly. But he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. He looked back at his hands.

"Clear!"

This time Jimmy didn't bother looking at the monitor. He just listened for a change in the tone. Only when there was none after five seconds did he glance over.

No change.

"Clear." Quieter this time.

Nick's mind was spinning with vague thoughts. It was all a mistake. Warrick wasn't supposed to die tonight. He'd been so sure, so intoxicated by the prospect of what lay ahead. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

"Clear."

When the body jerked this time, they all knew it was over.

Warrick lay on the white mattress, dead. Murdered in cold blood by an as yet unknown assailant.

Jimmy set the paddles down solemnly, his eyes downcast. There was nothing more he or anyone else could do. "I'm sorry…"

Those words hit Nick like a spear through the heart. _No…_

He heard Grissom gasp, faintly but clearly, which wasn't something the CSI supervisor did at the drop of a hat.

Catherine was wailing and crying beside him, and Grissom just held on to her to keep her from losing it altogether.

Mind numb, Greg lifted his hands to his head, covered his face, and tried to think.

Nick stared at the lifeless form that had been his best friend, fists clenched. Then he shut his eyes, trying to block out the image, angry hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

What happened next, no one could have seen coming. Just as the paramedics were about to power down the AED, a faint _beep_ sounded from the machine then the line twitched once. Twice. Three times. In an instant, the CSIs' entire universe had compressed to the size of a blip on a heart monitor.

The paramedics stared in disbelief. The monitor beside Jimmy was beeping. _Fast_. Ventricular tachycardia. Warrick's heart was thumping like a freight train. He sucked deep and his eyes flew open momentarily. He was breathing. His face flung sweat, his lungs hoarded the oxygen. No longer deprived of pulse and breath, he was suddenly animated and convulsive, an all-inclusive resurrection of life and energy.

Warrick was alive.

* * *

**But it's not over…Keep the reviews coming to find out what happens next!**

**Oh, and whoever can figure out how I came up with the names for my paramedics will get a little goody from me!**


	3. Last Words

**Hey, everyone! I'm back! Here's another chap or two for ya! Thanx 2…**

jtbwriter

linsy

PunkPrincess145

bbplayer005

ADASAKURA

**…4 all the reviews! Enjoy!**

**A/N:** You might wanna get the tissues out for this!

* * *

Nick sat in the back of the ambulance and held Warrick's hand while one of the paramedics adjusted the IV and the other continued to assess his wounds. They'd gotten his heart beating again, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. He was still in critical condition.

As the ambulance sped toward the hospital, the paramedic briefed the waiting trauma team. By the time he'd finished, they'd already turned off the highway and onto the main campus roadway leading to the hospital, sirens blaring. Nick gave his best friend's hand a gentle squeeze, willing him to stay alive. Hold on, Rick. Please, hold on…

They stopped with a jolt and the paramedics pulled the gurney onto the tarmac and barreled toward the emergency room. The automatic doors slid open and closed and they were in the receiving area, where the waiting trauma team instantly surrounded the gurney, brushed-steel equipment carts at the ready.

More IV needles went in. A more sophisticated vital signs monitor was hooked up. A nurse started calling out pulse rate and blood pressure. All while the gurney accelerated toward a set of doors marked EMERGENCY ROOM PERSONNEL ONLY.

Nick was sucked along in its wake, trying to keep Warrick's face in sight as the trauma team worked furiously around him. He was oblivious of the rest of his teammates who had appeared beside him.

"Heart rate's dropping!" a nurse called out in alarm. "He's crashing!"

"C'mon, stay with me," the doctor urged, hoping that his patient's heart would hang on until he finished what he was trying to do.

Nick's mind became frantic. _You cannot die. You have too much to live for! What about that case we were working on—that promotion you wanted? What about the team—you're our best investigator. Keep fighting, please!_

Catherine's heart went sick. She gripped Grissom's arm tightly, her eyes brimming with tears.

Then the gurney was bumping through the doors and a hand gently held Nick back from following.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to wait out here. We'll update you on your friend's condition as soon as we have more information." He mumbled a thank-you and the nurse disappeared after the gurney. The CSIs could hear the urgent back-and-forth of the trauma team for a moment, then the doors thumped shut and they were alone.

* * *

The emergency room was quiet.

Nick and Catherine sat side by side in two of the waiting room's hard plastic chairs, each lost in their own thoughts. Knowing it would be some time before they heard anything about Warrick's condition, Grissom had decided to go back to the scene to get some work done. He took Greg with him. Despite the circumstances, the young CSI still seemed to be able to function. At least, more so than Nick and Catherine. Nick was too upset to think about work. And Catherine was falling apart. She couldn't bring herself to go back to that scene and have to look at all that blood, knowing who it belonged to. Grissom was the only one that seemed to be unaffected by everything that was going on. But it was only because he'd long ago learned to stuff emotion. For the most part. The job did that. Inside though, he was hurting just as much as they were.

The two CSIs waited for what seemed like an eternity. At last a tall, thin young man in surgical scrubs came over to them and introduced himself as Dr. Lam.

"Has Mr. Brown's family been notified, yet?"

Nick nodded. "His grandmother is on her way and so's his ex-wife."

"How's he doing?" Catherine asked quietly, afraid of what the answer might be.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh. "It's not looking good. We're doing everything possible. And we will continue to do so. But at the moment I have to tell you he's losing ground."

Catherine fell silent, burying her face in her hands.

Nick stood and held a firm hand out to Lam.

"Thank you, Doctor. I know you're doing all you can. And we'll do everything we can."

Lam shook his hand and nodded solemnly before walking back through the trauma center doors. Unusually for him, he'd run out of words. Nick stared after the doctor, unbelieving, before sinking back into his chair. A shadow crept into his mind like a black cloud, spreading, pushing away light and hope, stripping away every thought but one: Warrick.

He could still see Warrick's last look at him over his shoulder when he left the restaurant. The huge smile on his face, reveling in his newfound freedom. He could remember the promise they made to always have each other's backs. He considered what his best friend could be going through, and he almost cried.

Catherine was crying a little, and touched her forehead to Nick's shoulder. He put his arm around her and held her close to comfort her. Demonstrating the same strong character that Catherine had always relied on, Nick gently helped her to her feet and announced that they could both use a break.

"C'mon, I'm sure we could both use a snack or a cup of coffee."

* * *

When they returned to the waiting room, Warrick's grandmother was there as was Tina. Both women looked worried sick about their boy. Grissom and Greg had returned as well. They'd processed the scene, but had found nothing to identify Warrick's assailant. Whoever he was, he was very good at covering his tracks.

After they exchanged less than cheerful greetings, Nick took a seat near Greg, who hadn't said much since they'd initially arrived at the hospital.

"You okay, man?"

The young CSI nodded soberly. "I guess so. I've never seen anybody I know die before. I can't get the picture of him lying there out of my mind."

Catherine sat quiet beside Grissom, trying to pull herself together. He scooted closer to her and took her hand, lending strength.

One hour passed with no news. Then two.

Nick found himself praying the hardest he'd ever prayed in his life.

He kept thinking of all the hard times he and Warrick had shared, and how they had always pulled together to make it through. He just knew in his heart that they would be able to again. _Come on, Warrick. You can make it._

But his hopes were soon dashed.

Dr. Lam reemerged from the other room, pulling the surgical mask from his face solemnly.

They all stood and stared at him expectantly.

He hesitated, wishing it didn't have to be this way, then took a deep breath. His face was full of apology. "I'm sorry. We did all we could. His injuries were too extensive. And he lost too much blood. We have him on life support, but I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left."

At those words, Warrick's grandmother staggered backward and sank into the nearest chair. She seemed overcome with emotion. Tina went to console her.

Grissom suddenly looked very old. Those words meant that it was time to stop fighting because they wouldn't win.

When he finally found his voice, it was a soft whisper that sounded nothing at all like his usual authoritative tone. "Can—can we see him?"

They were already looking past Dr. Lam, toward the corridor beyond, anxious to see their friend.

"Of course," the doctor answered. His calm and soothing response was much to his credit. "He's being moved to the ICU as we speak. You'll be allowed to see him in a few minutes. We'll wake him up, so you can talk to him. Say goodbye. Do whatever you need to do."

Nick couldn't fathom what he was hearing, couldn't bring himself to believe what it meant. There was no hope for recovery. The doctors had done everything in their power. And Warrick had done all he could do. He could only fight so long with so much against him.

Lam turned to leave, knowing too well their pain. It was never easy to lose a patient much less a loved one. "Again, I am sorry..."

* * *

Warrick's immediate family was allowed in first. Then his friends.

As the CSIs quietly stole into his hospital room, they saw Tina sitting beside the bed, holding his hand. His grandmother sat on the opposite side, gently stroking her grandson's arm. The younger woman looked up when they entered and her face lit up.

Their eyes settled on Warrick. His face was turned their way, but his expression was listless. He gave no hint that he recognized them. A bandage was wrapped securely around his neck where it appeared blood was still seeping through. He was also sporting a head bandage and a modified hair arrangement. If the situation wasn't so grim, they might've thought he looked kind of funny.

He was breathing with great gasps, very slowly. His skin was as gray as that of a corpse; his lips impossibly pale. But despite the respirator and the IVs and the machines that surrounded him,underneath the bandages, stitches, and tubes was the strong, intelligent man that had become a vital member of their team.

Catherine stared at him sadly. The suave, handsome man that she'd once been in love with had been broken and bruised beyond the body's ability to heal.

Tina followed their gaze to the bed. "He's still in shock, I think."

Nick approached first, bent down, and looked into Warrick's eyes. "Rick?" he said softly. "It's Nick."

For a moment there was no response. Then, like a delayed reaction, Warrick's eyes came to life and looked into his. His lips quivered slightly, then a very weak smile appeared below the tube that fed oxygen to his lungs.

"He can't talk…" Tina told them sadly, her free hand moving to touch his cheek then down to the bandage around his neck. Warrick blinked, as if to confirm what she'd said.

Nick frowned, his eyes burning with unshed tears. This was not the way he wanted to remember his best friend. He was lying there in a hospital bed, dying, unable to speak, and there was nothing he could do about it. He glanced over his best friend's weakened form, wishing he could take his place. Warrick didn't deserve this.

Confusion and pain washed his mind. "If I'd left when you did then maybe I could've—I could've—"

Warrick shook his head slightly, grimacing at the pain the movement caused. He touched Nick's arm and tried to convey what he meant through his eyes. _It's not your fault._

The rest of the team began to gather around his bed, Tina and his grandmother moving aside to let them have some time with him.

Nick closed his eyes, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, man!" he cried. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…"

Grissom lifted his head and looked over at the younger CSI. He didn't show it, but he understood what Nick meant perfectly. They were CSIs, not police officers. They were supposed to be spared from things like this. They weren't supposed to give their lives to catch the bad guy. They weren't supposed to become victims.

And he wasn't supposed to lose any more people he cared about ever again. Of course, the day that Holly Gribbs had been killed, he'd learned that 'supposed to' meant nothing. Nick had been buried alive. Catherine had been drugged, kidnapped, and had her daughter taken from her. Greg had been beaten to a pulp. And Sara had been kidnapped and left for dead in the middle of the desert. It was definitely a lesson he hadn't wanted to learn again.

He shook his head resignedly but could say nothing. Words wouldn't come.

Greg stood at the foot of the bed, not thinking much, just wondering, feeling the same old why that came at times such as this.

"This isn't fair…" he whispered, his voice rusty and choked from disuse and tears.

Warrick's face softened, and a tear escaped his eye. _I know…_

Though she tried not cry, Catherine's eyes filled with tears. She wanted to tell Warrick that everything would be all right, that he'd get better. But she couldn't speak. Nothing she felt could be put into words. As she watched him fight a losing battle for his life, she found herself wishing that she could make it all go away. All the hurt. And the pain. Everything. She wanted to give him the world, but she could only hold his hand.

He reached up and gently touched her face. _Oh, Cath…don't cry._

She bent down, gave him a kiss, and rested her face against his. He held her close with the little strength he had.

"This isn't really happening…" It came out as part sob, part whisper. "You can't die."

Warrick closed his eyes, releasing a trickle of tears.

When Catherine finally pulled away from him and settled next to Grissom, Tina resumed her place beside her ex-husband. He smiled gratefully at her then turned his head slightly to meet Grissom's gaze. His mouth began to move slowly, his lips forming words that only the supervisor could "hear."

(Take care of her.)

Grissom nodded faintly, understanding as Catherine leaned her forehead against his shoulder and began to sob softly. He held her, whispering words of comfort.

"I hope you catch the monster who did this," Tina suddenly said, her voice dripping with the bitterness they all felt.

None of them had the heart to tell her that they didn't have any suspects. But they couldn't lie.

"That's easier said than done," Nick remarked.

Warrick gave Grissom a questioning look. He opened his mouth to respond, but Greg cut him off.

"We don't—we don't exactly know who it was." Three pairs of dark, brown eyes stared at him in shock and disdain. "We couldn't see his face. It was too dark. And the scene was clean."

"But _you_ saw him, didn't you?" Grissom spoke up, his gaze meeting with Warrick's. "He was three feet from you. You had to see him."

A positive ID would help them find his killer and make him pay for what he'd done.

Warrick blinked once then looked away, a troubled look on his face, confirming Grissom's suspicions. Instinctively Tina reached for his hand, but he had a faraway look in his eyes as if he was focusing on something beyond the walls of the room.

"Warrick?" she said softly, almost as if she were talking to a child. "Your friends need to know who shot you, baby. Do you understand?"

He looked up at her then at everyone else through his morphine haze and, nodding slightly, squeezed her hand. There was that smile. He understood.

Nick's eyes locked with his. "Who shot you, Warrick?"

Mustering every ounce of energy and strength left in his body he told them the name of his killer.


	4. A Heavy Price

Catherine watched silently as Grissom relayed the new information to Brass. But she was only half-listening. Her thoughts were occupied by other things—her friend lying a few feet away in a hospital bed, hanging onto life by a thread. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. Things she'd never had the courage to say. But she wanted to say them now, before it was too late. As Grissom finished up his phone conversation, she turned to Warrick, momentarily noting how peaceful he appeared.

"Warrick, there's something I need to—Warrick? Warrick!" _Oh, no. Please, God, not now. Please don't let him die right now! _Warrick glanced briefly at her, gently smiling his good-bye.

His grandmother began to pray, tears sliding down her frail cheeks. "Dear God, please be with my grandson and all of those present. Give us a sense of peace as you receive him into your loving arms…"

They saw Warrick take his last breath. Then his eyes fluttered, and he was gone.

Catherine felt her world tip. It was like déjà vu. Almost two years ago, she'd watched Mike Keppler die in a similar situation. And now she'd had to watch one of her closest friends go through almost the exact same thing. She wavered on numb legs. Tears broke through the pain as the normal beep-beep of the heart monitor turned into a single note of alarm.

She turned away, no longer able to bear the sight of Warrick's lifeless form. And once again, as when Keppler had died, she found herself in Grissom's strong arms. He held her tight as she sagged into him and sobbed openly.

Nick suddenly felt two strong hands on his shoulders and he closed his eyes.

Tina sobbed inconsolably as she threw herself across Warrick's frail body. His grandmother crumpled at the end of the bed.

They now knew who had wanted Gedda and Warrick dead.

But it had cost them dearly.

* * *

**Sorry I had to kill him off…trying to stick with the actual story line! Anyway, there's more to come—aftermath stuff…if you want?**

**Oh, and for the 3 people that correctly answered my little challenge in ch2—3 favorite Warrick Brown quotes:**

_"I can get a print off air!"_

_"I hate lawyers. I hate court. They all need to dry up and die."_

_"Hey, pop. Like the Buddha said to the monk. Make me one with everything."_


	5. Not Alone

**Hey, ya'll! Here's a bonus chapter I thought you might like. It has GSR angst with a hint of Grillows! Enjoy! And thanx 2 all those that reviewed this story—you rock!**

* * *

Sara couldn't stay away any longer. Through all the media and numerous phone calls from friends, she'd learned what had happened to Warrick and knew she had to go back. If not for the rest of the team, then for Grissom.

As it was, he was the kind of man that kept mostly to himself. But when something like this happened, he would forget to act like a human being and become a stone, forbidding himself to feel, care, or cherish. First and foremost, he was their leader. Someone had to maintain some semblance of composure and keep the team from breaking. Someone had to help them keep going, keep working to catch the bad guy. He had to think of them, even as he dealt with the death of one of their own. Such was the life of a man in his position. Only when this whole ordeal was over would he finally release his heart. He would become a human being again. If only for a moment.

And when that happened, she wanted to be there. No one should have to bear the pain and loss all by themselves. She marched down the crime lab's hallways, determined not to let Grissom suffer alone.

She skidded to a halt in front of his office. While she couldn't say the sight in front of her astounded her, she was perplexed nonetheless. Catherine was there with him, wrapped lovingly in his embrace. Though she couldn't see her face, Sara could tell by her position that she was crying.

"Shh…it's okay," Grissom soothed, stroking her hair. "I'm here."

Sara knew by the anguish in his eyes that he cared for Catherine more deeply than his simple words expressed.

She hadn't realized how close those two were until she'd started dating the stoic bugman. He probably hadn't realized it at the time, but Catherine was all he ever talked about. He spoke very highly of his right hand, and Sara couldn't help but feel like she was walking in the older woman's shadow.

Grissom and Catherine had known each other for a long time. Way before she'd come into the picture. They were the best of friends. And when they worked together, she could see that the two had this—connection. They played on each other's strengths and compensated for each other's weaknesses. They were two halves of a whole. They were made for each other. She'd been kidding herself when she thought she could compete with the beautiful Catherine Willows. In the end, she'd finally accepted that his heart already belonged to someone else. It was one of the reasons she left.

As she watched them now, Sara saw Catherine do something that she had never been able to do. As Grissom pulled away from her, he tried to give her a reassuring smile. But his lips twisted wrong. Catherine saw the look on his face and, without hesitation, gathered him into her arms, returning the compassion he'd shown her only moments ago.

The strawberry-blonde was the only person that he had ever truly allowed into his world. His life. There was a bond between the two that made Sara long for such love. Something that she, no matter how much she'd wanted to, could never have with him.

She tried to quell the upwelling of jealousy that washed over her. She'd had her chance and found out that she could never be his girl. She sighed resignedly and decided it was time for her to leave. She stole away as quietly as she had arrived, pausing to take one last look before setting off in the opposite direction. A tear rolled down her cheek as she watched Catherine gently brush a tear from Grissom's cheek, a look of infinite tenderness on her face. Nodding to herself, she turned away from the window.

Grissom wasn't suffering alone.

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**Well, that's it! The end. Whaddaya think? Love it? Hate it? Reviews welcome!**


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